In Your Atmosphere (Paul McCartney/Beatles Fanfiction)

Chapter 40 Remember that I'll Always Be in Love with You

"Ok Mr. New Rules. I have a few rules of my own."

She took a deep breath. Paul thinking he could land in her bed in the middle of the night was a problem. It had stirred up all sorts of feelings that she wasn't expecting to deal with. Between the time he crawled into bed with her and the time she awoke, she'd had a slightly disturbing dream involving nudity and an extremely accommodating Paul McCartney.

"About last night."

"Yes?"

"No more crawling into my bed at night like we're still together."

His brow wrinkled. "Why not? Nothing happened."

She narrowed her eyes at him. There he sat with that innocent, puzzled look on his face. He was going to make her spell it out.

"It's like chocolate chip cookies, Paul. I know they're bad for me, and I'll hate myself for it, but when I see them and smell them and touch them, I just want to stuff my face full of them, all day long."

He arched a brow. "All day long?"

"Even though my brain knows it would be the worst idea in the history of worst ideas, it's hard to resist when the cookies are right under my nose."

He tilted his head to the side, his mouth curving in a smile. "I see." He scratched his unshaven jaw. "Well. Your cookies smell pret-ty damn good to me too. In case you were wondering."

Ignoring that, she shifted her restless daughter, letting her bounce up and down on her toes. "So. Rule number one. No more creeping into my bed at night."

"That's gonna be a tough one," he said, still smiling. What's rule number two?"

"I don't know yet, but I'll think of something."

"My door is always open for your comments and concerns, and I will take your suggestion under consideration." 

He stood, stretching his arms overhead. "Last night after the storm, I was lying in bed with the two of you and I heard a blackbird singing away, in the dead of night, like it thought it was morning. I took my tape recorder outside. Listen to this."

He fiddled with a tape player until the sound of a bird singing filled the room. "Crazy. Huh? Singing away like it was morning." He turned off the tape, grabbed a guitar, and settled on the floor in front of her.

"Do you ever sleep?" Marisol asked.

"Since I got a recent phone call from Mr. Aspinall, not much," he said. "I have a lot on my mind."

He strummed a few chords and began to sing. "Blackbird singing in the dead of night...na na na na na..."

Melody lunged for freedom. The moment Marisol placed her on the floor, she scooted to the guitar and reached a hand up to Paul's knee. He stopped playing. "Amazing, isn't it? She's like a blank slate, waiting for us to fill her up with life experiences." He shifted the guitar and scooped Melody up in one arm, settling her between his legs so she could pat the body of the guitar.

"I bet you've never seen anyone play guitar before, have you, baby girl?"

"You would win that bet," Marisol said. "I have sworn off musicians."

He frowned. "That's no life for my daughter. Her days should be filled with music."

"She has music. I had a record player in the delivery room. Margo was with me, playing nothing but Billie Holiday. The moment she was born, "God Bless the Child" started to play."

Paul listened to her recollection with a wistful expression on his face. "That's a good omen."

He held Melody's chubby foot in his palm. "Look at this. Ever see anything so perfect in your life?"